


Choice

by UnabashedBird



Series: King and Lionheart [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Qrow Branwen Has Issues, Qrow has a crush on Ozpin, Qrow's Semblance Angst, Semblance (RWBY), Semblance Accidents, Team STRQ Era (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedBird/pseuds/UnabashedBird
Summary: Two conversations Qrow has about his Semblance, one with Summer right after he realizes what it is, and another with Ozpin a few years later after he's rebuilt his supply of angst about it.AKA people who care about Qrow help him see that he's more than his Semblance and give our favorite grumpy bad-luck bird man the warm fuzzies.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Ozpin, Qrow Branwen & Summer Rose
Series: King and Lionheart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151699
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Although not technically a shippy fic, I consider it part of the same timeline as the rest of the series, hence its inclusion in this series.

"'s fuckin' bullshit," Qrow muttered, taking another swig from the bottle of booze he held.

"What is?" Summer asked as her head appeared, followed by the rest of her, cloak and all, as she hauled herself up to join him on the roof.

"Fuck off," he told her halfheartedly; they'd only known each other a few weeks and he already knew that she wasn't going anywhere until she got whatever it was she felt she needed out of the situation. Usually something soft and stupid like making sure he was OK, which, annoyingly, he kept finding himself appreciating.

She eyed the bottle. "Where did you even . . . never mind, not important right now. Gimme," and she swiped it before he could stop her, taking a swig and making a face. "Fuck, that's awful." She settled down next to him, shoulders not quite touching. "So, you kinda shut down midway through Aura Studies today, and now you're here with this," she wiggled the bottle at him. "Wanna tell me what that's about?"

"No," he said, staring straight ahead.

"Right, of course, why would you talk to your partner, team leader, and _friend_ about something that's so clearly eating you up inside and affecting your ability to function. That would be _ridiculous_."

"Friend?" Qrow turned toward her, cocking an eyebrow.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, bird brain? I decided we're friends because that's just more fun, and honestly you could use one. Other than your sister, I mean. And I could, too, actually, if that makes you feel any better about it."

"Don't I get a choice?"

"Not really, no. I'm very persistent."

"Heh. That's one word for it." He made a grab for the bottle, lost his balance when she held it away from him, rolled, and would've fallen off the roof if Summer hadn't grabbed him. However, in the process she'd practically thrown the bottle, and they both heard the loud sound of glass shattering as it hit the ground.

"Oh dear," came a voice that made them both freeze, staring at each other with wide, horrified eyes. "I suppose I'll have to check the roof for any students doing things they shouldn't." Was it just Qrow, or was Professor Ozpin's voice carrying a lot more than normal for someone who was either talking to themselves or maybe one other person standing right next to them? "After I clean up this glass, of course. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. I'll just go fetch a broom." Followed by--yeah, no, his cane was never that loud, in fact Qrow had often suspected him of _sneakiness_ , he was definitely broadcasting his movements to make it easier for them to escape.

Which they did, Qrow pausing briefly to activate his Aura, because even though it meant flushing the alcohol out of his system more quickly than he wanted, after one near miss with falling he didn't feel like pushing his . . . luck.

Tai and Raven were, mercifully, not in the room when he and Summer dropped in through their open window.

"That was close," Summer said once she'd caught her breath.

"Bet he would've let us off with a warning if he'd actually caught us."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Guy's a soft touch, and he's barely older than us anyway."

"Well, exactly. It's one thing to help us get away while giving himself plausible deniability that that's what he was doing, but if he'd actually caught us he might've felt like he had to be harsh in order to maintain his authority."

"Guess it's thinking like that that got you the team leader gig, huh?"

Summer shrugged, then sat down on the windowsill and patted the spot next to her. "You didn't think we were done with our conversation, did you?" she said sweetly.

Qrow briefly considered making a run for it, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of underhanded tactics Summer would use if he did that, so he sighed heavily and sat down.

"Anyone ever told you you're kind of a brat?"

"Nope," she said, straight-faced.

"Annoying, too. An annoying brat."

"So the lecture in Aura Studies," she said, steering the conversation back where she wanted it. "You went all," and she mimed a deer-in-the-headlights expression, "when Greyhame started talking about some of the rarer types of Semblances. Did you figure something out about yours?"

Qrow's shoulders hunched. "I really fucking hope not. But. Yeah, probably."

"Why--"

"Raven and I didn't go to fancy combat school, but living like we did, most people's Aura awakens sooner rather than later, and plenty of people end up unlocking their Semblances. There's not really any training, and it's definitely not spiritual or whatever, but since it's usually useful it's encouraged."

He glanced at Summer, who was just watching him patiently, waiting to see where he was going with this. "For as long as I can remember, I've been surrounded by bad luck. Since before I can remember, according to some people. Little things, mostly, but it adds up." He barked out a bitter laugh. "Things broke around me so often that I got really good at fixing all kinds of stuff, because I knew what would happen if the tribe every decided I was more trouble than I was worth. I started volunteering to scout solo when I was eleven, trying to be useful, trying to prove I could do my part. It worked, too, because the bad luck would happen to whoever was around me, and when that was people the tribe was planning to rob it sorta worked in my favor. And of course, I wasn't alone, because Raven always went with me." He paused, staring at his hands, feeling like he'd lost the thread of his point somewhere.

"Greyhame said that some Semblances aren't . . . they aren't something a person chooses to do, they're like . . . an effect on the world. Whether the person wants it to happen or not," Summer said slowly, finding Qrow's point for him.

"Right," he said. "I was always . . . it always seemed so unfair. It's not like I was _doing_ anything, stuff just _happened_. But if I'm right, if I have some sort of fucking . . . bad luck Semblance . . . then I was doing something. Just by . . . being. And those bastards were right to want me gone." His hand twitched, missing the bottle and the heat and fuzziness of cheap alcohol muddying his ability to focus on the implications of him actually being what the tribe's whispers accused him of.

Misfortune.

A bad luck charm.

"Well, that's bullshit." Summer said it so confidently that he turned to stare at her. "Don't get me wrong, if you're right about your Semblance then that absolutely sucks balls. But," and she angled her body towards him, even reached out to take his hands in her earnestness, "it doesn't mean that you somehow, what, forfeit your right to be a person? No. You still get to _be_."

"But--"

"Nope."

"Summer."

"Qrow."

He leaned back, intending to rest his head against the window and rally his thoughts.

The window they'd left open.

And just his _luck_ , Summer wasn't fast enough to catch him this time.

"Oof."

That . . . was not the ground he'd landed on.

"If you wouldn't _mind_ , Mr. Branwen?"

"Shit, sorry," Qrow said breathlessly, and rolled off of Professor Ozpin, because of course he'd fallen out a window and right on top of the headmaster, who . . . had been . . . cleaning up . . . oh no.

Yup.

Right in the middle of the broken glass.

And . . . oh, _ow_.

"There's glass," Ozpin said helpfully.

"I noticed," Qrow said weakly.

"On the bright side, I'm impressed with your reflexes in activating your Aura."

"Uh . . . thanks?" Qrow definitely wasn't going to mention that he just hadn't gotten around to deactivating it after the rapid climb down from the roof. "Did you . . . you must'a got yours up, since you don't sound like you're bleeding internally."

"Correct."

Well. This was going great. He was lying on his back on broken glass, after falling out his dorm window and landing on top of the headmaster. Who was lying next to him, also on his back on broken glass.

An exit strategy would be good, preferably one that didn't involve any more of . . . anything.

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh."

He'd never been so glad to see Summer, who ran up and extended a hand to each of them, hauling them to their feet.

"Thank you, Ms. Rose," Ozpin said, adjusting his glasses.

"Are you all right, Professor?" she asked.

"I'll be fine, though I don't think I can say the same for my jacket," he said ruefully, carefully removing the offending garment, which was indeed completely shredded in the back.

Qrow's already overtaxed brain gave up on him because Ozpin's turtleneck was _snug_ and what it revealed about the arms and torso it clung to was something Qrow was going to have embarrassing hot-for-teacher fantasies about he just _knew_ it why was today _like this_.

"Anyway," Summer said loudly, in a way that suggested that Qrow maybe should have said or done something by this point. Oh, well. "We're _really sorry_ , sir." She jabbed Qrow in the ribs with her elbow, abandoning all pretense of subtlety.

"Yeah, sorry," he echoed. Repeated actually, _Summer_ , because he might be from a bandit tribe but he knew enough to apologize after crash-landing on top of someone who didn't have it coming.

"Well, no real harm done," Ozpin said genially. "Though perhaps sitting in front of open windows is best avoided in future, hmm?"

"Absolutely!" Summer said, sounding _far_ too chipper, and steered Qrow back inside.

Once they were safely back in their room, with the door _and_ window closed, Summer let out an enormous sigh. "So, _that_ happened."

"It sure fucking did." Qrow's brain was slowly coming back online, and he mustered the coherency to make a point. "Kinda disproves what you were saying earlier."

Summer cocked her head. "How so?"

"How--? I fell out a window and almost killed Ozpin!"

She shrugged. "Could happen to anyone."

"Yeah, but it _did_ happen to _me_."

"OK, so it's . . . probability. Increased odds of the unfortunate. Not a guarantee. And did you forget, part of the _point_ of the class that got you all tied up in knots is that we learn _better control_. There's no better place for you to get a handle on this thing than here."

Qrow couldn't help it, he reached out and poked Summer in the shoulder.

"What was that for?" she asked, indignant.

He did it again, just for good measure. "Trying to reassure myself that you're a real person and not some obnoxiously idealistic hallucination I've been having."

"Ugh, why are you _like this_."

"Pretty sure I just explained that; weren't you listening?"

"Ugh!" She shoved him. Not hard, but.

"I'm starting to think that acknowledging this thing as my Semblance has made it more powerful," he said from the floor, where he'd ended up by way of backing into one of the desk chairs. He'd also managed to bring some textbooks falling onto him on the way down. "Ow."

Summer helped him up and steered him to his bed. "Sit. Stay," she told him, and went to tidy the mess he'd left, ignoring his glare. "Look, I'm not saying there isn't a lot we don't know about how this works," she said as she sat down next to him. "Just that I think that anyone who takes the time to see past your bullshit would agree with me that you're worth a slight increase in minor inconveniences."

There was . . . his fall or the window or something must've stirred up some dust or whatever, and _that_ was what was responsible for the sudden prickling behind his eyes. Yeah. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

"Is it still 'talk Qrow off a ledge' o'clock?" Tai asked, coming into the room with Raven from wherever they'd been. Qrow flipped him off, and Tai just grinned and tossed his stuff on one of the desks.

"No, I think he's had enough of ledges for one day," Summer said. "Right, Qrow?"

Qrow narrowed his eyes at her. He couldn't _prove_ that she was threatening to tell their teammates about the mishaps of the past ten minutes if he didn't go along with her stupid compassionate "you're worth it" crap, but it sure _seemed_ like exactly the kind of blackmail she'd be capable of, and he didn't need Tai or Raven's brands of giving him shit right now. "Right," he said, and as far as he was concerned Summer's mega-watt grin was an admission of guilt.

He'd never admit it to her, but as he drifted off to sleep hours later, the knowledge that someone other than his sister genuinely wanted to be around him, even with the bad luck thing, warmed and comforted him like an extra blanket on a cold night.

A few years and a lot of opportunities to figure out just how dire "increased odds of the unfortunate" could be in a fight, and Qrow was far less inclined to feel warm and fuzzy about his team's insistence that they wanted him around.

It was a week since Ozpin asked Team STRQ if they were interested in protecting the world on a level few people even knew existed. He told them to think it over, like he didn't know that the only one who might have any reservations was Raven, and the rest of them had gotten really good at talking her into just about anything.

Qrow hadn't been expecting the fairy tales or the terrifying truths they revealed, but on the bright size Ozpin had materialized some actually comfortable extra chairs for them in his office and poured them all steaming mugs of hot chocolate that was just way better than a kiddie drink had any right to be; and when Qrow got out his flask Ozpin sighed and said "if you're going to spike your drink, at least do it respectfully" and pulled out a bottle from Qrow still wasn't sure where of something that definitely went better with the cocoa than the cheap booze from his flask.

And listening to Ozpin tell stories . . . it was nice. It was just nice. Qrow was still plenty pissed at himself for his stupid, hopeless crush because _ugh, seriously?!?_ and the whole thing was _not helped_ by how it felt to sit comfortably and listen to Ozpin warm to his subject, obviously enjoying himself despite the seriousness of the topic.

But whatever. Not the point.

They'd learned of Maidens and relics and gods and curses and an ancient, terrible foe, and then Ozpin offered them a trial mission, something connected to everything he'd told them but not too deep in it. "Get your feet wet, think it over," as he'd put it, and they had.

The mission could've gone a lot worse.

It also could've gone a lot _better_ , and despite the increased control he'd gained over his Semblance since he first realized what it was, he was still pretty sure he was to blame for all of the mishaps.

And he kept thinking about Ozpin's story about the brother gods and the core aspects of humanity. ("Don't you mean people?" Summer had said, because she could never resist an opportunity to remind others to use faunus-inclusive language; Qrow hadn't been able to parse the expression that flickered across Ozpin's face before he said "of course, thank you Summer" but it had definitely been a thing.) Creation, destruction, knowledge, choice. Things everyone was supposed to have, or have the potential for.

Yeah, right.

"Qrow," Ozpin said in surprise upon admitting him to his office. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Qrow threw himself into the usual, much less comfortable spare chair in front of Ozpin's desk and folded his arms tightly across his chest. "That story was bullshit," he said without preamble.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow. Summer gave me the impression that--"

Qrow cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Not like that, I'm still on board for the Secret Club of Worldsaving. No, what I mean is, even if the gods _thought_ they were imbuing people with the things the relics represent, they didn't. They're probably full of shit, actually, and we're better off without 'em."

"I still don't understand--"

" _Choice_. Like any of us have any real choices. Pffffft. It's a cosmic fucking joke, Oz. Yeah, don't think I didn't notice that you're suddenly using our first names now that you're telling us this stuff. Two-way street, pal." Qrow may have emptied his flask a little quicker than was wise on his way across campus and up the elevator. Not so much that he missed the way the side of Ozpin's mouth quirked up in a quickly-suppressed half-smile that made Qrow _fucking blush, goddammit_.

"Hmm. Perhaps if you shared what it is you're feeling you lack choice in dealing with?"

"My fucking Semblance. It's such crap. Especially when . . . I mean, if there's anyone who could make a bad luck Semblance work for them, it'd be my sister, right? I mean, it's kinda a terrifying thought, but like in a good way. Mostly. Anyway. We're _twins_ , we _formed_ together, we did everything together, there's _no goddamn reason_ for it to be me and not her. Meanwhile she can, she can . . . do what she does, and it's like it doesn't even _matter_ , like she actually _complains_ about it because it isn't _useful_ enough in a _fight_. I would . . . " he trailed off, not quite far gone enough to voice the thought he'd been having more and more. _I would give anything to have a direct line to the people I care about like that. To always be able to get to their side when they were in trouble, or just because I wanted to be with them. I would cherish that like the fucking gift that it is, not complain that I can't use it to chop up Grimm more effectively._

Ozpin nodded thoughtfully. "You are Raven are certainly an interesting case; one that flies in the face of a good deal of philosophy and theory about Semblances."

"You think I care about _philosophy_? This is my fucking _life_ \--" Ozpin held up a hand, and Qrow quieted.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to trivialize your predicament. Though another time we might want to come back to your imagined distinction between philosophy and life." Qrow rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw stars. "I see what you're saying, though I would point out that no one ever chooses their Semblance. Much like no one chooses their family of origin. Where choice comes in is what we do with the things we are given, whether we wanted them or not. I did not say it was fair," he added, forestalling the exact objection Qrow was opening his mouth to make, "simply that there is still choice involved."

"What would you know about it," Qrow muttered.

Ozpin just looked at him.

Oh. Right.

"Good thing you already knew I was an asshole, huh?" he said sheepishly, reaching for his flask before remembering that it was empty.

"It's certainly what you like for people to believe. But if you really cared so little, I doubt your Semblance would bother you as much as it does."

"So I'm guessing you weren't thrilled about being the newest incarnation of . . . magic guy," Qrow said, blatantly redirecting the conversation away from Ozpin's way-too-accurate observation.

"No. Very few of us have been, as far as I can tell. Whether I wanted them or not, I inherited the memories and the magic--but what would I do with them? Hide from the world, like my predecessor who created the first Maidens? Amass power solely for my own gain, as some have done? Allow what there still was of _me_ to be consumed by the memories and the obligations that came with them, becoming not so much a person as a purpose incarnate? Or, as most of us do, find a way to advance our goal that still feels true to who I was, and who I was becoming, before I awoke with a stranger's voice in my head?"

"I must sound like some whiny kid," Qrow said, avoiding Ozpin's eyes.

"Not at all. You've been dealt a difficult hand, and learning that there are powers in the universe capable of changing difficult hands while choosing not to usually makes coping harder, not easier. I don't have answers, Qrow. All I have is . . . well. If I may be blunt, I admire you."

Qrow straightened in shock. "What?"

"It would be understandable for someone in your position to either isolate themselves or decide that they cannot be bothered trying to keep their Semblance in check, and others will simply have to, hm, deal with it. You have done neither, choosing instead the difficult road of remaining in community and nurturing friendships while also caring deeply about how those friends are affected by your Semblance, and therefore striving to achieve as much control as possible. And all, I might add, without sacrificing any of your martial prowess. It's admirable, Qrow. If more people had your attitude, the world would be a better place."

"Literally no one has ever said that to me before," Qrow couldn't help but say, and was startled and delighted when Ozpin laughed.

"Well, I suppose there are attitudes and _attitudes_ , as it were."

"Yeah, kinda seems like you're somehow managing to put a good spin on me being a stubborn, contrary bastard who's too selfish to go it alone," said Qrow, instinctively trying to shield himself from the vulnerability of Ozpin's compliments, even as a way-too-large part of him just wanted to bask in them.

"There's the attitude people usually mean when they use the word," Ozpin said, eyes twinkling over his ridiculous little glasses.

This really had to stop, Qrow's stupid heart couldn't take much more.

Hadn't he had some brilliant point he came up here to make?

"OK, but . . . when you told the story, you said the gift of choice was for choosing between creation and destruction, right?" Ozpin nodded slowly. "Right, but my Semblance is like, small-scale destruction incarnate, and I don't get to choose whether that's true or not. So I ask again, where's my choice?"

Ozpin sighed. "I suppose the Branwen tribe considers fairy tales to be frivolous things?"

Qrow shrugged. "I mean, I've heard some over the years. Not a ton of little kids in the tribe, but when there are, they gotta be kept out of the way somehow until they're old enough to be useful."

Ozpin frowned at that, but didn't comment on it. "Well, I don't know if you've ever had occasion to notice, but fairy tales and myths have a tendency to simplify complex concepts for the sake of making their point. For example, creation and destruction aren't really opposites--we need them both." Qrow cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Well, to use an obvious case, we destroy Grimm in order to create civilization. We take the lives of animals to sustain our own. Or, and you'll have to forgive me the _philosophy_ , we create community and relationship by choosing to destroy some of the barriers we place between ourselves and others."

Qrow raised his hands in surrender. "OK, OK, I get it. Still gonna complain about it, but I get what you're saying."

"Good."

There's a pause in which Qrow realized he'd run out of steam for both grousing and arguing, and didn't really have an exit strategy for the conversation.

"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" Ozpin prompted.

"Guess not," Qrow said, begrudgingly grateful. "I probably have an essay I should've started already. Seems like there's always an essay I should've already started. Never would've come to this dumb school if I'd known how much _writing_ was involved in becoming a professional monster killer." That got him a chuckle from Ozpin as he stood up and walked to the elevator.

He turned back as he waited for the elevator doors to open. "Thanks for the talk, Oz. It, uh. I think it helped."

"Any time, Qrow."

As he rode the elevator down, the warmth that flooded Qrow was from a lot more than just the alcohol in his system, and he was OK with that in spite of himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a thought not long ago that "holy shit, at some point Qrow has DEFINITELY wished he and Raven could have each other's Semblances" and even though that concept didn't end up featuring as prominently as I originally thought it would, this fic is the result of me trying to flesh that out.


End file.
